


Mend

by Rin_the_Shadow



Series: To Turn Spark [7]
Category: Transformers (Unicron Trilogy), Transformers: Armada
Genre: Character Study, Friendship, Gen, Injury Recovery, Not So Different, Starscream tries to be a good bro, Training, adjusting to Autobot lifestyles, allusions to implied PTSD, attempts at burying the hatchet, he really does, hot shot is a good bro, hot shot tries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-22
Updated: 2018-11-22
Packaged: 2019-08-27 12:37:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16702705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rin_the_Shadow/pseuds/Rin_the_Shadow
Summary: Walking away from an argument, Hot Shot blows off some steam and tries to make sense of his newest teammate. Really, is it too much to ask for just one conversation NOT to end in a fight?





	Mend

**Author's Note:**

> So I'd actually been rewatching the episode "Rescue" when I thought of this one. I'd meant it to go much differently than it ended up, but I'd like to think it benefited from the change, and I hope you will enjoy it.

Hot Shot huffed as he marched away from the conversation. Well, actually, it had been more like an argument near the end. He didn’t get it. Things had been going so much better between them, but lately, it seemed like they’d gone back to being enemies. Only now they were stuck in the same headquarters.

But things _had_ been going better, right? They’d done pretty well on their missions. Well, sort of. They’d worked together to fight off Megatron when they’d gone to liberate the Mini-Cons in the labor camp. Somewhere in there, they’d even worked out a variation of the fistbump that Starscream didn’t shrink from and would actually _return_.

Then not even minutes later, he’d shouted at Optimus because their commander wouldn’t leave him behind to fight Megatron. Which was weird in and of itself, because didn’t he leave the Decepticons after he was abandoned on the battlefield? It didn’t make sense that he’d try to get the Autobots to do the same. In that moment, Optimus had given him a choice: would he follow his heart or his programming? Autobot, or Decepticon?

Though he had returned to the base with them, that question wasn’t answered until hours later when he growled out a frustrated, “ _There is no right answer!_ ” Optimus had simply told him to take his time. It didn’t seem so tough to Hot Shot, but then again, he figured the seeker had his own issues to work out. Didn’t seem like such a good idea to get in the middle of that.

Things had only gotten worse in the following weeks. First, he’d managed to pop a cable in his arm. That had been an easy enough fix for Red Alert, but apparently seekers didn’t always heal as well as they looked. When he’d started getting cleared for missions again, they’d been ambushed, and the same cable had crunched and frayed.

Hot Shot had been the one to pull the struggling and hissing seeker from the battlefield. It had been bad, but again, nothing Red Alert couldn’t fix.

Only it seemed like that wasn’t the only thing. Whenever Hot Shot had tried to approach from that point, Starscream went into defense mode. His answers were short and his temper was shorter. Probably didn’t help things that the Autobot wasn’t exactly known for his patience himself. They hadn’t outright fought, (well, not since that first time, anyway. He’d have to be a pretty big jerk to fight someone wearing bracing) but they had come close in several separate instances.

Hot Shot had learned pretty quickly that in those instances, _he_ had to be the one to walk away. It didn’t really seem fair, but that was the only way to avoid fighting.

He still didn’t trust him fully, whether he wanted to or not. Though he didn’t want to admit it, at least a part of this was because the last time he’d trusted a newcomer—well, they turned out to be Sideways. He’d tried to explain that once or twice (though the first time came out more like an accusation) but Starscream always took it as a direct comparison (not that he really blamed him, since, you know, that first time it kind of _was_ ). But it sucked. It slagging _sucked_ , because he knew he could be handling things better, but wasn’t.

Neither Red Alert nor Optimus Prime seemed to see it that way. Red Alert in particular wanted to treat it like an injury, like slowly fortifying a limb that had snapped and was fusing itself back together. There was only so much bracing you could use before it stopped affecting anything. As if trust and fear were the same as being physically maimed.

He’d think he’d know a thing or two about that, considering he’d barely made it back to the base after Sideways had switched sides. Slag, maybe it was the same. Hot Shot wasn’t sure. Something just felt wrong about comparing the two.

But his own issues aside, something was…off…with Starscream. The guy could get stuck on the whole Megatron thing to a degree he’d never seen even in a strategy meeting. Not to mention he’d even ignore orders and argue with Optimus over it at times. There was also the whole last week and everything else that had gone wrong since his injury. Something had happened between him and Optimus that had started to fix things, but what went down up until whatever happened still wasn’t normal.

And he knew about the seeker’s abandonment on the battlefield that day, much as he tried not to think about it due to the memories of warped metal and melting plating it stirred up. It’d be pretty hard not to know when he was there and saw it happen. But still, it seemed like he got a bit _too_ stuck on it sometimes.

Honestly, there wasn’t much of anything that made sense anymore.

He ran a few laps around the training room to clear his head, first in standard mode, then in vehicle mode. It didn’t really work. “Yeesh,” he muttered to himself. “Might as well go see if Red Alert has anything that needs fixing.” As much as he hated doing busy work, he had to admit it was good for getting his mind off of things.

As he was preparing to leave, the doors opened with a _whoosh_. He looked up in time to see the seeker start to step through, then pause, grimace, and turn to leave.

“Hey, wait a second!” he called out. “I’m just leaving. You can have it to yourself in just a second.”

That stopped him in his tracks. Hot Shot had to admit he hadn’t actually expected it to work. Especially not when they’d just argued maybe two hours ago, if that. It always seemed like it took Starscream much longer to shrug that kind of thing off.

When he stayed frozen in that position, Hot Shot continued, “Unless you’re not supposed to be here, of course. I don’t really know much about splice-bracing. No experience with it myself. But hey,” he shrugged, shutting off the speed-training protocol. “If Red Alert asks, I can always say I didn’t see you.”

Starscream whipped around with a fierce scowl. “What, so I can ‘owe you one,’ as you Autobots say it?” Great, so it was going to be one of _those_ chats.

The young Autobot shrugged. “Eh, not really.” He figured he probably shouldn’t mention that even if that _had_ been his intention, he didn’t really think he would ever pay up. “I figure we’re probably about even at this point, anyway.”

“Autobot sympathy, then.” He grimaced, digits twitching on his injured hand. “I don’t need it.”

“That’s really more Red Alert’s department?” Really? He was on the “sympathy” track again? When had he _ever_ seen Hot Shot as the type to dole out “sympathy?”

“Your medic is at least honest about it.” He sneered, then paused. “And it’s…technically part of his job description.”

Huh. That had fizzled surprisingly fast. It was probably better not to risk wiring him back up. “Well, if you want the training room, it’s yours. Just make sure you shut it off when you’re done, yeah?”

He moved to pass him, both of them ignoring the slight flinch from the seeker. Hot Shot really wanted to comment just once, just to ask what he really thought was going to happen. But he also knew he wouldn’t actually answer it. At best, he'd ignore it and look annoyed. At worst, there was a good chance Starscream would take a swing at him, at least verbally. Again, he’d have to be a pretty big jerk to pick a fight with a guy wearing bracing.

But as he walked away, Starscream just stood there at the panel, expression shadowed by his helm. Hot Shot was tempted to keep walking, act like he hadn’t seen anything. After all, didn’t he just tell him that if he wasn’t supposed to be there and Red Alert asked, he’d pretend neither of them knew about it?

“Ah, slag,” he sighed, turning mid-step. “Hey!” he called out. “Have you used the training room before? It just hit me that you might not have.”

The ex-Decepticon startled when he called out, almost reaching for his wing-sword before he thought better of it. “I’ll figure it out," he answered, surprisingly less hostile than either of them had expected.

Hot Shot stopped. Even earlier this week, he might have insisted upon hearing that, because that answer clearly meant _no, I haven’t, I don’t know how to use it, but I still don’t want you helping me_. In fact, he’d gotten frustrated with that kind of thing before, and had tracked down Red Alert and Optimus Prime on several separate occasions, since clearly they had _something_ of an idea what to do about it. To their credit, they hadn’t started locking him out when he’d come their way huffing, “I don’t know how to deal with this guy!” (regardless of whether he’d meant Starscream or Blurr)

Both had said the same thing. You couldn’t make someone take help they didn’t want. But he’d started watching the way they slipped around that. It was a little like putting a tool within someone’s reach instead of giving it to them directly, that was the metaphor Scavenger finally used.

So instead of closing the gap the rest of the way, Hot Shot simply spoke from where he was. “Okay. But just so you know, you can adjust the program so it fits with what you’re wanting to work on at the level you want it.” _Like if you’re braced and trying not to split cables_. “Like if you’re doing barehand or blade.”

The young Autobot had no delusions of being gifted in subtlety (something Starscream had almost gleefully pointed out before), but it seemed like he handled that one well enough. The seeker had stared for several seconds, expression somewhere between confusion and annoyance, before he nodded and muttered something that could have been “thanks” but could also have been a seeker insult. (He hadn’t bothered to speak up, so it wasn’t clear which) Before Hot Shot could say anything else, he’d turned his attention back to the panel.

“Yeesh,” Hot Shot shook his head. Some ‘bots. But at least he’d managed to go without a fight starting this time. He couldn’t pretend he understood half of what went through his new teammate’s processor, but this was as good a start as any. Still, he knew if he stuck around this little “at least” would burn up faster than anything. Especially considering his track record lately. Better not to test his luck.

Well, he figured as he turned and walked down the hall, might as well go back to plan A and see if Red Alert needed anything repaired.

**Author's Note:**

> Armada Hot Shot is actually kind of a hard balance for me to write, so I hope I did him justice with the way I've portrayed him here. Although "Rescue" is heavily referenced here and I had originally intended for things to be about where they were at that point, I realized it doesn't really work as well as I planned in context with the rest of what I've written on this series, especially if I want this to be at the point it is relative to my others.
> 
> It's always a little amusing to me when the characters get away from me.
> 
> In any event, please let me know what you think!  
> ~Rin


End file.
